Hard Life
by KungPowBacon
Summary: This my "fanfic", Its really just a story I felt like writing, more like a book... but I had to choose a category, so I chose walking dead :D- Jordan staff is 14 year old African american boy, who develops a hard life, when a virus overruns the world, leaving him to survive. Conflict. Emotion. Destress. Death.


Introduction

I remember life when I was small, like ten, or eleven. My father dropped me off at school, and I would learn about wild life. I would learn about predators and prey, the food chain. How the rabbits would leave there burrows, to scavenge for food. Then a predator would come along, and the rabbits would dart back into there holes, before blood would be spilled... But most of the time, the predator would snag them at the last second. As a child, I wondered what it would be like to be the rabbit, to have to continuously fear for your life... But know that the risk is extremely necessary, and if it wasn't tested, you would die.

Now... 6 years later, I know how it feels. I am the rabbit, and my own kind... humanity, is the wolf, infected by a virus that turns them into vicious carnivore that preys on the very small part of humanity, the uninfected. Once your bit, you might very well be dead, and already chewing on your fellow human. First you get a fever, then that fever burns you four to ten minutes, you turn into one of them.

As my father use to say,"think with your brain, not with your heart, even when its hard... and you don't want to".You might think that love or compassion might "cure" your fallen comrade. You'll probably change your mind as they chew on your bleeding leg. I got news for you, Aunt Susie thinks your face is delicious, now obliterate your cranium. That, and running, are the only thing we can do to keep our safe. Aim for there head, cause you'll ammo packing bullets into anywhere else, as well as attract more; one zed might not seem like much, but in groups there really something.

Now for something less terrifying. We survivors have created a sort of grid of safe-houses, that communicate with each other. I know of 5 other safe-houses, that are allied to our safe-house. But a few can be quite aggressive, and a few are raider camps... definitely want to stay away from raider camps, Iv'e made that mistake. Our allied safe-houses relay information back to us. Such as a particularly infested sites hot spots for supplies, or a lost survivor.

This all started when I was 14, 2 years ago. That's where I'm gonna start my story, cause everything before hand is not very important. This is how it went.

Chapter 1

"Jordan! Dinners ready!", I hear my father howler up the stairs.

"Okay...", I start to run down the stairs," What are we having?".

"A roast.", he says as he meets my eyes when I walk into the room," What do you want to drink?".

"Beer... what do I always want.", he smirks at my sarcasm, then walks to the table with a bottle of water, and a bottle of beer.

"Here.", he smiles as he sets both next to me.I chuckle at his joke.

He sits down and starts to cut the rare meat on his plate,"So... watcha do today?".

"Uhh... not much, I learned crap, and that's pretty much it.".

"Watcha do after school?"

"Watch the television, why?".

"Your acting pretty suspicious.", he says surprisingly calmly.

"Why are you so accusatory?"

"'cause I found this in the front yard!", he holds up a bag of weed.

"What in the hell, why was that there!?".

"Why don't you tell me!"

"That is not mine! You trust me, right!?".

"Yea... but I also know, that your a young African American, and their might be peer pressure involved.".

"Dad! You gotta trust me! That isn't mine!".

He pauses, then huffs,"Just go to bed!".

"...but I haven't finished yet?".

"JUST GO!".

I pack up the plate full of delicious food, and storm up the stairs. When I got to my room, I slam the door shut, and set the food on the desk that's next to my bed. I immediately turn on the television, "Doritos, YAY!", the commercial yells. I change the channel to abc news. The camera was focused on a a man, he talked a small frame woman, the woman screams as he tears into her throat, blood spews everywhere. Two police men jump into the view.

" What in the hell is going on!?".

One of the police men fires three times, hitting the mans chest. He continues. The other on fires twice, this time aiming at the mans head, missing one, but the other plants itself right in the back of the mans cranium. The police men run up to the woman, who laid motionless on the floor. After a few minutes the woman got up, and charged at the police officer. She thrusts her arm into him knocking him back, then she bit into his arm, taking a chunk out. The man scrams in pain, as his comrade fires at her. Another one of them sneaks behind the man, and bites into his neck. The cannibals sit there devouring there meal. A shattering noise comes from downstairs. Then a hollering comes from my father. I grab the .22 rifle that sits in my closet, and run downstairs.

When I reach the bottom, I look down the hall to see a limp man passing into view, going into the kitchen. A knife flies out, burying itself into the mans chest. Blood spritz everywhere. I pick up the barrel, aim down the scope and fire. The quivering of my hands cause me to miss by a inch. The man immediately turns down the hall and starts heading toward me. I check the barrel slide. Nothing. I turn the gun around,and charge.

I plant the stock straight threw his head. His head explodes leaving blood splattered across the wall, and on my clothes. I let out a large huff of air, that I hadn't even realized I was holding. My father, seeing the blood on the wall, slowly peaks over the corner, as well lets out his breath, realizing that the blood wasn't mine.

"A-are you okay?".

"I-I think so...".

"We need to go!".

" I agree.".

We both ran upstairs grabbing equipment, and stuffing it into are bags. I stuffed the .22 in the bag as well, and grabbed a compact 9 mm handgun, along with a well built breast holster, and a 12 inch Kuhkri knife. Then I ran downstairs. My dad was already down there packing large amounts of food, water, and ammo into every box and bag in the house. He grabbed his keys.

"Lets hurry, and pack these in the car.".

I grab three large bags, and run to the car. We shove most of the bags into the car, when I tripped over a stray wire. I fall into the gravel bed. The fall hurts like nothing else. I feel the rocks stab into my arms, and legs. The thud makes a loud racket. A near by woman hears me fall, and was on me like I was a never ending credit card. I kick her back as she falls into me. I forgot about the gun strapped to my chest, and start out reaching. I start backing p, as she crawls toward me, gnashing and snarling at me. I finally reach my neighbors house. I reach, and feel a wooden stick, I pull it up to my side. Lucky. It was an axe. I swing it, knocking the woman to the side. My father walks out of the house seeing what happened. The woman regains her self. I then swing harder, this time with the sharp edge, the blade cuts through the woman's skull, ripping it in half. Blood goes every where, my pants covered in it, I get up. My father runs over to me. This time I was a little pissed. He wasn't there. I had almost died. He offered help, but I ignored him.

We continued to pack, untill we were finished. We both quickly got into the car. He drove off very quickly. We saw a few of...what should I call them... how 'bout zed's, as we pass by. The exhaustion finally took over, and I slowly faded...

* * *

"Wake up..." , my father shook my shoulder.

"Wa-what!", I say as I wake up, not remembering. I notice that we were in our car, then It hits me like a baseball to the head. My face drips with hard tears, I am no longer a child, I have transformed from a innocent child, to being an adult in one night. I feel the tears fall into my hands, I wipe them, remembering, that hard tears burn. That hard tears burn through you like acid, that inflict emotional damage. They ruin lives.


End file.
